


Little Truths

by DrGaster



Category: Portal (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Post-Canon, badthingshappenbingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-17 20:06:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18105536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrGaster/pseuds/DrGaster
Summary: Doug's aches and pains have not subsided on the surface - inside or out.





	Little Truths

The sun feels different than Doug remembers, somehow. It’s huge in the sky, hot and bright, furious when compared to the almost pitiful flourescents that had lit the depths of Aperture even during its most prosperous days. He has had only one glimpse of it in so many years, and so be so thoroughly bathed in it now feels like an overdose.

Bathe he does, nonetheless, and he revels in the high it makes him feel. He has been up here for perhaps a week or two, and he already feels as though he could happily spend the rest of his life sunbathing.

 _She_ stands nearby, her stormcloud eyes sharp and focused as they scan the horizon for threats that simply aren’t there. Proud and noble, in his eyes-- beautiful, in spite of the years of fighting and struggling that have beaten and weathered her and shaped her. She was not supposed to be a warrior, his Chell, his perfect Chell.

His daughter.

Not that she knows. He could never tell her, not now, not anymore. It has been too long, and he has failed her too drastically. The fact that she doesn’t remember is her blessing, and he refuses to take that away by inflicting the curse of memory upon her.

At least he can bask in her presence. It’s more than he deserves, her company, but she gives it to him anyway. This is a relief, for the Companion Cube has become much less talkative since they’ve come to the surface. In his heart of hearts, he knows its voice isn’t real, but it has been his only source of comfort for a very long time. In a way, he loves it.

“You should sit down,” he suggests to Chell. Her gaze snaps to him, as if she has all but forgotten he was even there. It would, perhaps, not be surprising. They’re both so used to being alone. He might forget her presence, too, if it weren’t for the fact that he’s so dazzled by it.

 _You should stand up,_ she retorts, her hands coming up from their place on her hips to sign the words.

“I... suppose I should,” Doug remarks, resting a hand on his leg just below his knee. The real reason for his fatigue is something he hasn’t been able to bring himself to tell her in the few hours since their reunion; his understanding of sign had surprised and pleased her, but not enough to make her trust him. “But you haven’t rested at all. You need your strength, my dear.”

 _Chell._ She fingersigns her name very deliberately, firmly.

The tone of her movements doesn’t speak of anger, but he recoils in guilt immediately, nonetheless-- not only that he should inadvertently upset her, but that he should have failed his own child so miserably that he lacks even the right to call her by a gentle pet name. He is as easily upset as his namesake, and wants just as much to run away. “...Chell. I’m sorry, it’s a force of habit. I won’t let it happen again.”

Her expression softens, if only a little. She falls to a crouch in front of him. _What’s wrong with your leg?_

“What do you mean?” How did he give it away?

 _You were limping when you asked to stop. And now you don’t want to get up again,_ Chell elaborates, as straightforward as ever.

“Ah. Yes, I see.” He hesitates. His eyes are darting, looking for an escape, but of course there isn’t one. You can’t run away from a conversation with the only human being left alive the way you can run away from a supercomputer. “It’s been this way since I was shot by a turret. Don’t worry, I won’t slow you down. If you’ll give me a minute, I can walk.”

After a moment’s apparent consideration, she moves a little closer-- cautiously, like she’s forgotten how to trust people, or never knew at all. _Is there a way to fix it?_

“Sadly, no,” he says. He doesn’t know how to trust people, either, but he would trust her anyway. Without question. Without a single moment of doubt. “I do have a fair amount of medical knowledge, but it’s already healed wrong.”

 _Too bad._ The tone of her signs and her expression are guarded. It makes him wonder at once whether she has similar injuries that she hasn’t told him about. But of course she would; how could she avoid it, after what she went through in that horrible place? He opens his mouth slightly, the words coming forth to address it, but he fretfully discards them a moment later.

His daughter watches him with curious eyes, and sits down in the tall grass.

 


End file.
